North Star
by binahsaurus
Summary: AU. It's been two years since the Doctor left Rose with his duplicate on the sands of Bad Wolf Bay and Rose Tyler has had enough of pining over him. Now, faced with a conspiracy against her family and Torchwood Rose finds herself gathering companions and friends old and new in a desperate bid to save the ones she loves and her adopted world. Rose/10, Rose/10-II, 10-II/Other
1. 0 :: Bad Man

**AN: **Hello, there! As you may have noticed I completely revamped this installment so far, mostly because it was crap. Secondly, because it was crap I didn't even like. So, same story, written in a manner slightly less horrible.

As for the story itself, here's a slightly more detailed summary:

_AU. Rose and Tentoo have been together in Pete's World for over a year and are working on building a normal life together on the slow path. Fate seems to have a different plan though and secrets, past mistakes and tragedy catch up with them, separating the two of them and sending Rose on a journey to discover exactly what happened to her on Satellite Five and when she and Jackie arrived in Pete's World. But the answers are complicated, unwanted and may be the root of everything that has happened to her family and friends. Will she be able to make it right? Or are there some things that can never be fixed? Some futures that can never be regained?_

So if that sounds interesting hopefully you'll put up with my very slow update schedule (life!), inevitable grammatical errors and rusty writing style and enjoy the story. (In which case you are awesome.)

Warnings: This story has an M rating because there will be some mature content, specifically foul language, a bit of violence and some sexual content, about as much as you might find in a Stephanie Laurens or Eloisa James romance novel. If any of that makes you uncomfortable then please don't continue reading.

**Disclaimer:**I own nothing, as you very well know.

* * *

"Will it be me, will it be you? / It's a bad man's world, I'm a bad, bad girl."

- Jenny Lewis, _Bad Man's World_

* * *

"Give it a rest, Jacks. Please."

Pete Tyler rested his head against the steering wheel of the car as he waited for his wife to continue her lecture despite his pleas for a break. It was an old argument now, one that he knew he was never going to win and one that she was never going to give up. There was a part of him that absolutely understood where she was coming from, and even a bit of him that wished he could give her what she wanted; but at the end of the day he couldn't bring himself to feel something he didn't feel: and he most certainly didn't feel as if Rose Tyler was really his daughter.

It wasn't that he didn't like her. Her time at Torchwood had earned his respect for her intelligence, bravery and character. But the person he had met all those years had changed completely. Now when he looked into her eyes he couldn't be entirely sure that what was looking back at him was one hundred percent human. And it bothered him.

He knew Jacks saw it too, though she would never admit to it. Rose may have changed but Jackie had the certainty of twenty some years to reassure her that the woman who walked through this world without ever seeming to be a part of it was still somehow her Rose. Even now, after the secret had sprung up between them she managed to treat the girl no differently. But he couldn't put it behind him as easily, couldn't ignore the little voice in his head that warned him that someday she would bring trouble down on all their heads.

"Fine," Jackie's voice pulled Pete back to the present, "But don't think I'm done with this conversation. Because I'm not."

Pete felt a smile tugging at his lips at his wife's petulant tone. Yes, it was tiresome to constantly rehash the same old argument but at least with this Jackie the things they fought about were real and not just about what diamond chandelier would keep them looking up to snuff. He'd take the messy wonderful life had now, with all its familiar squabbles and domestic issues over the simple, quiet lonely life he lived before.

"I'm counting on it."

"Oh, hush you!"

He could hear the humor in her voice over the phone and suddenly he longed to be with her again as soon as possible, "I'll be home soon. Then you can rail at me all you want Mrs. Tyler."

He could practically hear her pleased blush as she told him she loved him and they made their goodbyes. For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander familiar paths as he thought about his wife and how much had changed since she'd come into his life. In the last few years she'd turned everything upside down completely, from his home to his family to the simple nightly ritual of a cuppa tea while they just sat and enjoyed one another's company. He knew how lucky he was to have gotten this second chance; there were very few of those to go around.

A brisk fall rain tatted incessantly against the window, bringing him back to the present. If he didn't leave soon the milk would spoil and it was past time Tony was tucked into bed. Pete carefully started the car, flashing on its head lights as he struggled to make out the road before him through the rain. He was in a hurry now, all the more eager to see Jacks as the rain began to properly pour.

The figure that appeared in the road was unexpected and Pete gave a shout and hit the brakes, the car wheels skidding along the wet pavement. There had been a moment of sickening clarity when the headlights had reflected back the familiar face at him before the car flipped and crunched, leaving him trapped upside down on the opposite side of the road. When he came too he tasted blood in his mouth and was horribly aware of the lack of sensation in his legs. Around him the night was quiet except for the sound of a heated conversation before him.

"This isn't what I signed on for!"

A woman sniffed in disdain, the strange cultured tones of her voice cutting off the flow of conversation, "Let him go then, if he lacks the stomach or spine for it. I trust you won't have any similar qualms? No? Good! Then our business is concluded."

The sound of her footsteps echoed across the pavement and then Pete was aware of a pair of loafers at his eye level.

"Pete Tyler! Fantastic to see you again. Well, maybe not as far as you're concerned."

"You," anything else Pete wanted to say was interrupted when the figure crouched down, his mad hazel eyes boring into Pete's.

"I'd like to say it wasn't personal but well, ever since you left me to die over in Devonshire the line between personal and business has blurred somewhat."

"Please, my son..."

For a moment something like pity flashed across the man's face but it dissipated as he moved to reveal the revolver in his hands.

"Mundane, I know. The head of Torchwood deserves to go out with a bit of a better bang than your average bloke, but needs must."

He paused, grin widening as he took aim, "See you on the other side, boss."

* * *

There were things he hated about being human. It wasn't the domestics, he found a sort of perverse pleasure in all those things he had so assiduously avoided before. He mastered movie nights and ordering take away, could make a decent loaf of banana bread and pick a throw rug which tied a room together. He had a job, a proper one, as professor of physics at a nearby university and owned more than two suits. And he talked, a lot. Not about his past, parts of which were fuzzier than he would've liked and other parts he felt didn't have a place in this new life that John Smith was building for himself, but he talked about the now, the future and all the things he hoped and fear would come to pass in them.

And then, of course, there was Rose. Rose Tyler: flatmate, best mate, occasional snogging mate. Although, he wouldn't mind a bit more of that, but she had asked to go slowly so she could have a chance to fall in love with him, Professor John Smith, properly and for himself, not just who he looked like. How could he say no to that?

And there had been progress. Kisses and touches that lingered, glances that seemed to say so much more than words. And now it was all about to change. And change, he discovered, was his eternal enemy.

It was the transient nature of it all that he found so disturbing. How quickly people were there, and then gone. His other self had kept people at an arm's length to try and mitigate the pain but not him, not Professor John Smith. His time had seemed so limited, so small, that he hadn't bothered to guard his singular heart. And so he began to care deeply, not just about Rose, but for the impromptu family that had grown up around them as well. And now that was fractured, changed and nothing would ever be the same.

Carefully, he lowered himself so that he was perched on the bed besides Rose's sleeping form. All this time and the sight of her still took his breath away. It wasn't just the physical, though he was well aware that she was beautiful. It was something more undefinable, that ephemeral quality which made her Rose, that allowed her to slip past his defenses so seamlessly he hadn't noticed until it was too late. And even once he noticed he didn't regret it for a moment, even though he'd known that It was selfish and dangerous and doomed.

This time though was meant to be different; it was supposed to be just the two of them on the slow path to forever. Almost immediately though there had been signs that it wouldn't be that simple. Signs he had done his best to ignore, to disprove, to erase because there was nothing he had ever wanted more, whether he was called the Doctor or John Smith, than this life with Rose Tyler. Just the two of them together, just as it should be.

Rose stirred slightly in her sleep, murmuring nonsense against her pillow. Her face was content but otherwise gave no indication of the dreams which crossed her mind. He regretted bitterly the role he was about to play.

"Rose." His voice was gentle even to his ears, his hand sweeping a tangled swath of hair back from her face, "Sweetheart, you need to wake up."

Her eyes fluttered, and fixed on him sleepily. Something in his face must have given away the nature of his news, because her own hardened and became shuttered in reflection, "Doctor? What is it? What's happened?"

"There's been an accident."

And just like that the tangle of timelines that had always kept her destiny just out his view snapped and solidified into a single golden thread.


	2. I :: No Light, No Light

**AN: **Please see the prior chapter's Author's Note, there have been some changes.

**Disclaimer:**I own nothing, as you very well know.

* * *

"Would you leave me, if I told you what I'd done? / And would you leave me, if I told you what I'd become?"

- Florence + The Machine, _No Light, No Light_

* * *

It was funny how this place still didn't feel like home to her. Everything was just a little bit off; a bit too shiny, too loud, too wet and rough and gray for it to be the place she remembered. Not that the home she came from would've won any awards. There was quite a bit more to say about a council estate than there was to recommend it. But still it had been her own, the place she grew up. The place she met the doctor, more or less. And after that her home had been with him, spinning madly through time and space in that wonderful blue box.

And then she'd lost it all.

It hurt still to think about it, to remember the man who had sent her away, stranding her in Norway with his double without so much as a goodbye after she'd fought so long and hard to get back to him in the first place. It had been a struggle at first not to let the bitterness take hold. She suspected that if it wasn't for John, Doctor 2.0, she wouldn't have been able to let the original Doctor go.

But she had. There was no denying that remembering the man who had first taken her the stars would always make her heart ache, but for a long time now it had been John who made her heart smile. She could only hope that he didn't hate her for the way she'd left things. There were bigger things to focus on now though, things Rose couldn't ignore if she ever hoped to regain a semblance of her life from before. And so, pushing thoughts of the Doctor away Rose turned and headed toward the flat she had shared with John Smith so long ago.

She missed the place more than she thought she would when she left. But there hadn't been much of a choice then. Torchwood had fallen apart and the ramifications of that had been far-reaching: instability in the government, chaos at home, tension on the street so thick you could cut it. And with all of that, absolutely nothing getting done. Torchwood's resources had been left to waste, the staff disbanded and there had been whispers that what had happened to Pete wasn't exactly an outside job. Rumors, Rose knew to be true.

Finding who was responsible and trying to determine what they wanted had turned into something of a problem when most of Torchwood settled on her as the mole. She'd been on the run ever since.

Her own fault really, she'd played right into their hands.

The neat row of houses was as she remembered it, the honey and stone colors rippling into a glowing mosaic as the houses pushed against one another. Shade dappled across neat entryways from the spreading tree branches and she could smell the faint scent of some unidentified but pleasing flower on the morning air. It wasn't long before she stood before the familiar door, nervously fingering the key that hung around her neck. It had been years since she'd seen him last, time enough for them both to have changed.

He didn't notice her at first when she entered, easing the front door closed gently behind her. He stood in the kitchen as she seen him a million times before, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, a faraway look in his eyes as he contemplated some problem interesting enough to capture his Time Lord mind. The moment was so familiar it sent an ache through her as the reality of just how much she had missed him settled around her shoulders. And then his eyes met hers in the doorway and the spell was broken and she found herself propelled across the room to meet him halfway, tears stinging her eyes.

"Rose." She was in his arms before her name had left his lips. She tightened her own arms around him, the rough stubble of his face scraping as he placed a kiss on her cheek before pulling back to study her face. She took the opportunity to return the favor.

Age had caught up to the half human Time Lord and the face she had loved so well was now more careworn than she had ever seen it. Gray had begun to creep into his hair, though it still retained its untameable lushness, and the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth remained regardless of expression. She could feel it also in the body under her fingers which felt weighed down and tired beneath her hands. She had left him while he was still a young man in his thirties and returned to find that he had crossed over into middle age without her. His eyes however were still bright and young and from the look on his face she knew he hadn't missed her realization of his mortality. Just as she knew that he didn't like the truths he found written across her face any better.

"Rose." This time when he said her name it was an apology.

* * *

_3 years ago_

The streets were cold and wet in the early morning hour but Rose was covered in a fine sheen of sweat despite the chill, her heart pounding as she followed the gps marker. Above her only one or two solitary zeppelins floated silently against the dark sky while the streets' silence remained largely unbroken except for the heavy staccato of her breathing. It was the time of day when the world still lolled peaceful and half dreaming before the bustle of the working hours intruded. A sleepy, magical time that she had always relished in the past when all she'd had to think about was the taste of newness in the air and texture of a lover's skin beneath her fingers. Now, it was as if a watchful tension gripped the familiar gray hours, turning the air to something metallic and choking and setting her teeth on edge.

100 feet, 40 feet, 10 ... her feet stopped mid stride and she felt the air leave her body as she realized where the map had taken her. .

There were still scorch marks on the pavement. She remembered reading in the papers that they had been unable to put the fire out, so they'd let it burn until there was nothing left but ash and twisted metal. Rose felt her stomach heave as the sight and she turned away, breathing deeply to steady herself. The scent of withered flowers and spent candle wax perfumed the air and she turned away from the scorch marks towards the scent.

There was a small makeshift memorial against one side of the road which looked to Rose as if it had barely survived the few days since the accident had occurred. The few flowers left were wilted and drooping sadly over a smattering of illegible notes and well-wishes. Her gaze skittered away from the soft brown fur of a teddy bear to the lone burning candle. At another time Rose might have felt compelled to examine the slap-dash monument to grief, trying to decipher the handwriting of sympathizers, collecting the flowers and comfort intended for those left behind. All her focus however was drawn to the single solitary figure kneeling standing beside the flickering candle.

He had been crying, his face was still red and puffy, his eyes bloodshot as he stared, stunned at her from across the street. In her hand the red tracking dot blinked furiously, confirming her suspicions that the man standing before her was her target. Recognition flickered on the edge of her mind as the face that had haunted her from the moment she saw it on the CCTV footage of the "accident" became clearer. He was a tall man, slender and well-groomed at first appearance but closer examination revealed that the smart gray wool coat and suit were crusted in grime, his face gaunt and filthy beneath the tears.

For a moment she remembered him differently, his face fuller and younger looking, lacking the empty grayness which had recently taken up residence in his eyes. He'd worn a similar looking suit then, covering it with the comforting crispness and authority of a lab coat. She remembered now that he'd been the attending physician when Tony was born as well as her doctor after her somewhat disastrous first mission.

"Ms. Tyler."

His voice was tense and she could see that tension reflected in the suddenly tight set of his shoulders. So, he not only recognized her he also knew why she was there.

"Dr. Foster," Rose slipped her hands into her jacket pocket, fingers brushing against cool metal, "Fancy meeting you here."

His face moved in imitation of a smile but it didn't reach his eyes and when he finally spoke his voice was rough and ragged, "I didn't have a choice."

He moved quicker than Rose would've credited, drawing his gun with a speed and precision that bespoke his Torchwood training. Despite her dislike for firearms Rose was no slouch and had worked hard to perfect every bit of training Torchwood had deemed necessary. She'd barely even registered his action before she was mirroring it leaving the two of them armed and at an impasse she had no idea how to breach.

"He deserved it, you have to know that." His voice rang with conviction, despite the shaking of his hands, "After all the lies and the secrets and the betrayal, Pete had it coming."

"Maybe," the gun in her hand seemed heavy as an albatross but she managed to keep her grip steady, her eyes focused on the armed, desperate man before her, "But if you really thought he was corrupt why didn't you just report him? Start an investigation? Why jump straight to killing him?"

"Is that what you're going to do? Spare my life, turn me in to rot in some jail cell until I'm killed and tortured by my supposed allies?"

"Yes," Rose lowered her gun slightly, "Yes, that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

He froze, his eyes searching her face and for a moment Rose was hopeful. Five years she'd been with this world's Torchwood and she'd yet to fire her weapon in combat. Somehow, despite the odds she'd always tried her best to find a way to resolve any conflict peacefully. She hadn't necessarily always been successful and her career was littered with many an injured opponent but as far as she knew all of them had lived. Even now, despite what the man in front of her had done to Pete and to her family she found herself unwilling to pull the trigger.

"I don't believe you."

His hands were shaking and the shot went blessedly wide, only grazing the skin of her arm. Rose hissed at the pain, her vision clouding momentarily as she shot back automatically. She heard his yelp of pain and ignoring the burning of her arm she brought her weapon back up. For his part, Foster lay crumpled on the ground, his hand covering a wound in his thigh that seemed to be bleeding a bit more enthusiastically than Rose thought was warranted.

"Ha, you've done it now."

Rose approached him cautiously. His face was pale and waxen, blood covering his hands as he pressed them futilely against the punctured artery. She kicked his gun away, but he didn't appear to notice, choosing instead to lay back on the pavement and groan loudly.

"You're not going to die." Rose knelt down, lowering her gun to get a better look at the wound, "I'll -"

Pain sliced through her leg as Dr. Foster dug in with the knife she had overlooked. Stupid, she chastised herself, a rookie mistake. She'd assumed that the seemingly injured and unarmed man was beaten and made the mistake of not realizing that he was also desperate. He made a move to wrench the knife out and Rose rolled away from him, unwilling to let him get hold of the weapon again.

"You stupid bitch."

Rose kicked at him, hitting him squarely in the abdomen in a move that she knew should have knocked the air out of him. It barely slowed him. She got in one more hit, heard the satisfying crunch of a bone beneath her fist, before his hands were around her throat and all she could focus on was trying to keep breathing.

"You think I don't know what you are, alien-loving trash?"

Her nails left gouges down his face and wrists but he just laughed, his eyes vacant as he raised her head only to smash it into the pavement below. For a moment she lost the ability to see, the only thing she was aware of was the burning of her lungs and her would-be killer's non-sensical monologue.

"Did you think I would forget? Did you think I could forget? Monsters, the whole lot of you are nothing but monsters!"

Rose coughed, her hands falling uselessly to her sides as her arms went numb, her fingers brushing absently against the metal of the forgotten gun.

"The devil in Devonshire and his blood on your hands! On your whole family's hands!"

He slammed her head once again into the pavement and Rose pulled the trigger.

* * *

_Present_

Looking at her only made him more aware of how much he had changed over the years and how little she had. Good genes could account for some of it, but he knew that there was more to it than that. He wondered if Rose had noticed that anything was amiss yet. He doubted it; chronologically she was only twenty-eight now, a young face wasn't uncommon. But in a decade? There would be no avoiding the issue then.

As if sensing his distress, though not the cause, she pulled back from him so that he could have space to clear his head.

"No," his words startled her, her hazel eyes widening with the question even as he saw he mouth begin to frame his name, "Stay."

Her whole face lit up from her smile and he knew looked equally as silly with happiness. It had been too long since he had last seen her, last held her in his arms. There were too many lonely, worrying nights and too many torturous, tempting dreams between them for him to do anything other than clutch her to him. Logically, he was aware that there was a lot more between them than this longing that they needed to address. Torchwood, Pete, Jackie, Tony, the way she had left and its resulting mess were all very important topics that couldn't be ignored and forgotten. No matter however much he wished he could sweep her away into the bedroom and lock the outside world out indefinitely.

But for a few more minutes longer he would pretend that he could.


End file.
